Invasion and Dragons

by Jekka Jones

  Sri’Lanca took off, keeping behind the rocky and forested slopes. Landon was so stunned by Nircana’s defeat that he forgot to be terrified of flying. Horror licked at his heart. He could do nothing but think of his parents, his siblings, nieces and nephews, and the hell they were going through. The thought of his youngest nephew, who had just turned three, working a grown man’s job made him tremble.

  Sri’Lanca landed on the back of a small peak and scrambled along a steep pass into a copse of pines. To their right was another valley that had once been a Nircanian camp. It looked the same as the other site they had left: broken trees, scattered weapons and shelters, and a patch of earth that had to be another mass grave. This one, however, was double the size of the first. Landon tore his eyes away and focused on the worksite below.

  From here, he could distinguish the guards from the Nircanians. The guards wore breastplates, and the Nircanians wore ragged green and brown clothes. The guards were mainly Caborcan and Lythran, but Landon saw a few Maisans, Tsuregans, and Menrians scattered among his people. Each guard was armed with a baton and a flail, and they were eager to use them. Whips cracked and batons fell on any man, woman, or child who paused in their labors. If a whip or baton came towards a child, a nearby adult threw themselves in front of the weapon, shielding the child as best they could with their own body. None tried to fight back. They just carried on in their work, regardless of the guards’ cruelty.

  Landon didn’t didn’t know if he should weep or scream in fury. His people were broken. The proud, free nation of Nircana had been reduced to beasts of burden intent on survival.

  Movement at the base of their perch drew Landon’s attention. A group of twenty teens and children sat around tables piled with rocks. Even from that height, Landon could see them removing stones containing gems, gold, or silver. Ten guards circled them like vultures, harassing them as they pleased.

  A strange ringing started in Landon’s ears. The slope wasn’t steep, and most of it had enough tree cover. As soon as the trees stopped, there were dislodged boulders that he could hide behind. He slid off Sri’Lanca’s back, tightened the katana’s belt, and headed down the slope on silent feet. He didn’t have the Wizard’s Seal, but he didn’t need it. There were enough rocks around that he could throw and incapacitate the guards. Myra joined him, fingering her hatchet. A murderous glint entered her eyes.

  They hadn’t gone three paces when Sri’Lanca’s tail wrapped around their waists. Landon and Myra were squished together, the sword jabbing into his stomach.

  “Sri’Lanca!” Landon hissed. “What are you doing?”

  “Put us down!” Myra snarled.

  The dragon didn’t reply. He turned and retreated up the slope, away from the Nircanians. Landon and Myra squirmed and pounded on Sri’Lanca’s tail with their fists, promising threats.

  Sri’Lanca ignored them. He stalked through the forest until the sounds of the construction site were inaudible through the trees. Without loosening his tail, he turned to Landon and Myra. “You two are idiots,” he said in a dragon whisper, which was like a low growl. “Do you want to be captured?”

  “Of course not!” Landon cried. “But we have to help them!”

  “Didn’t you see those guards beating that kid?” Myra said, almost screaming. No tears fell, but her eyes blazed with rage. “All he did was drop his hammer, Sri’Lanca. His hammer!”

  “I saw the same thing as you, Myra, but we can’t help him right now,” Sri’Lanca said. Anger coursed through the bond, and Landon knew half of it was towards the guards and half was towards him and Myra.

  Landon glared at Sri’Lanca, his anger mixing with the dragon’s. “We can’t help him? You expect us to hide away and do nothing?”

  “Ice no! I expect us to be strong and observe so we can plan on how to free them,” said Sri’Lanca. His voice trembled, and Landon knew he was trying to refrain from screaming at them. “It is just you, Myra, and me right now. Although many things have happened in history because of three brave people, many more disasters happened because individuals acted with their hearts and not their heads. Do you understand what I am saying, Landon?”

  Landon was shaking. Sit, wait, and watch? Watch as his people were beaten before his eyes? His soul couldn’t take that. “We should just free them now,” he argued. “Get them into the caves. The Dragon Guard is gone, and I bet Ti’Luthin and Liliana are close by. They’d come and help in an instant if we—Don’t shake your head!”

  Anger and frustration sharpened in the bond. “It is past noon and the Guard will be back after sunset, Landon. If we try something now the Guard will return before we can get all your people to safety, especially into the caves. And not all of the Guard is gone. At least thirty dragons stay behind to protect the emperor. There are a lot of Nircanians, and many of them will be in no condition to fight, let alone make a run for it.”

  “You could carry them,” Landon said acidly.

  “I can only carry up to fifteen people at a time, Landon.” Sri’Lanca flapped his wings irritably. “Maybe twenty if some are children. Ti’Luthin will be the same if we manage to find him, but the two of us won’t be enough! You forget that there are a lot of Nircanians. You are all spread out in your country, but there are millions of you. We have to assume that not everyone will be able to fight or run, and those will be snatched up or killed by the Dragon Guard. I’m a good fighter but I don’t want to challenge hundreds of dragons unless I can win.”

  “You took on the Dragon Guard all by yourself when you were hunting Landon,” Myra pointed out.

  “I was mad with grief at the time, Myra, and that gave me the idiocy to fight them.” An edge of remorse flickered in the bond but only for a second. “I am sane now, which is why I am being cautious.”

  “Your caution can rot!” snapped Myra. She squirmed in Sri’Lanca’s tail, forcing the sword hilt to dig harder into Landon’s stomach. “Sri’Lanca, put us down!”

  “Not until I have your word that neither of you will go running back to be brainless heroes. Do you want Landon to become a Seer’s toy again?”

  That, above anything else, worked. Landon’s thoughts went back to watching his body move and speak without his control, to Myra’s cries of mercy as he stabbed her. It had been horrible enough with Myra, but what if he were the one whipping children, beating his friends, and stabbing his parents? He knew the Seers would make him torture his people.

  Feeling more frustrated, Landon gritted his teeth and said, “Fine. We promise not to be heroes.”

  Sri’Lanca stared at him, and then Myra. “Myra, do I have your word?”

  “Sri’Lanca, I just said—”

  “I believe you, Landon, but I’m not bonded to Myra therefore I need to hear her say it.”

  Sri’Lanca and Myra glared at each other. She had stopped struggling but her expression was twisted with intense loathing.

  “I can do this all day if we must, Myra,” said Sri’Lanca, when she still hadn’t spoken, “but that takes away precious time to observe and plan.”

  “I’ll watch too,” said Myra, with all the hatred of a person acknowledging they’re wrong. “I promise.” She kept her eyes down, hands clenched into shaking fists.

  Sri’Lanca stared at her for a couple heartbeats. “I am trusting you, Myra, to keep your word.” He lowered them to the ground and withdrew his tail. Landon rubbed the place the hilt had dug into him, mentally swearing at his dragon.

  “Don’t swear at me, Landon,” said Sri’Lanca.

  Landon spluttered. “I didn’t say a word!”

  “You were feeling it.” The dragon studied the two of them, his emotions a tumult of anger and apprehension. “Maybe you two should stay here.”

  “No, I want to do this,” said Landon. Myra nodded. The two humans straightened their backs and looked the dragon in the eye.

  Sri’Lanca exhaled long and slow. “Very well. When you are ready, let’s go back to our perch.”

  Landon knew he would ne
ver be ready. Without a word, he turned and walked the way they had come. He gripped his sword with one hand until his knuckles were white. Behind him, Myra and Sri’Lanca followed. The dragon, as always, moved with a stealth that was surprising for a creature so large. Back at their vantage point, they sat down to observe.

  It was the hardest, most despairing thing Landon had ever done. A few minutes into their vigil, he grabbed a handful of grass, fallen leaves, and began shredding them. Myra was twisting her shirt and swearing, tears slipping down her cheeks every time she blinked. Sri’Lanca was a statue; the only bit of him that moved were his eyes. The dragon’s emotions were cold and hard, fixed with an icy resolve to carry out justice.

  Landon tried to watch for weak points and escape routes, but he was too mortified to think. The sun beat down upon the prisoners, merciless like the wrath of the angels was upon them. The guards took turns to retreat to covered pavilions where they shed their armor and rested, eating and drinking as much as they wanted. The Nircanians were given no such luxury. They toiled in the heat, collapsing from thirst and exhaustion until a friend, or guard, urged them to their feet. Those in the cages were allowed to freely come and go, but at the expense of encountering their captors. The guards walked among the cages, harassing Nircanians through the bars or spilling the water buckets.

  Worse, Ti’Luthin had been captured. Landon had thought the dragon was another cage until Sri’Lanca pointed him out. What he mistook as bars were in fact chains. They crisscrossed the dragon’s body, forcing him to lie on the ground with his wings and tail tight against his sides. As far as he could tell, Ti’Luthin made no noise, which meant he was either gagged, unconscious, or had given up.

  “Sri’Lanca, what’s the punishment for desertion in Dagnor?” Landon asked, watching as a guard sauntered up to the bound dragon and jabbed Ti’Luthin with his baton. He couldn’t see Liliana anywhere.

  Both Sri’Lanca’s face and the bond were no comfort. “I don’t know. No dragon and tamer has ever deserted the Guard before. Ti’Luthin and Liliana are the first. One thing’s for sure, death would be a mercy and the Guard would know that.”

  Bile rose in Landon’s throat at that, and he managed to hold it back. “How long are we going to watch?” He tried to keep his voice calm and failed. It trembled and cracked with rage.

  “Until our people are forced back into the cages,” Sri’Lanca answered. “We need to know how long they are worked, and if they’re confined before or after the Guard returns.”

  The day dragged on. At one point, Myra grabbed Landon’s arm and pointed east. It was another mass grave, one the size of a small village. Hundreds of Nircanians were digging and lowering bodies of all sizes into the earth. Landon muttered under his breath, praying and swearing at the same time. There were too many bodies—too many being lowered into the ground, and too many carts laden with bodies. Even the diggers were a mixture of men, women, and children, forced to bury their family and friends. The guards jabbed the diggers, urging them to hurry, but the Nircanians didn’t hurry. Each body was laid with reverence and love into the earth before being covered.

  “Almighty receive them,” Myra whispered. “Receive their souls and damn their murderers. Damn them all.”

  It seemed forever before the sun touched the horizon. A horn blasted through the air and all work in the area ceased. The Nircanians working in the quarry and palace foundation converged on a series of carts on the western edge of the construction site and deposited their tools. They then trudged their way to the cages, keeping the children and elderly in the center. The guards escorted them with a renewed fervor of shouts, forming a silver band around the thousands of prisoners. The prisoners were shoved into the cages, and the doors were bolted shut. The grave diggers were forced to leave their corpse-laden carts by half-filled graves and were escorted into cages that stood around the gravesite.

  Once the last cage was closed, several wagons broke away from the surrounding armies. The wagons trundled among the cages, pausing at each one. Landon watched one cart bearing the Menrian flag—two golden men facing each other with hands upraised, supporting a sun against dark blue fabric. The Menrians threw a sack into each cage before moving on. By the time every cage had been visited, including Ti’Luthin, the sky was turning dark blue, and Landon saw the Dragon Guard return.

  Landon stood. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Sri’Lanca nodded. “We will have to walk. I don’t want to fly while the Guard is in the air.”

  “That’s fine,” said Myra, getting to her feet. “Angels know I need a walk after watching all that.” She took Landon’s hand in a vice-like grip.

  Walking did help. It didn’t calm Landon’s nerves, but it helped him focus his thoughts, channel his emotions. He was able to take his rage and horror and use it to think. A lot of Nircanians had enough strength to take abuse and keep working in the heat, more than he expected. Those who remained in the cages were too weak or hurt to work, and Landon realized they were pretty much left in there to die. The majority of the guards had whips and batons, but a few sported swords. The Nircanians had easy access to their tools, which were just as dangerous as a sword, but only while working.

  Landon waited until they had put two hills between themselves and the armies before voicing these thoughts. Myra added that those who left the cages to fetch water limped or favored an arm.

  “They’re too wounded to work but can still move around,” Landon noted. “They have access to water even if it’s almost impossible for them to get any.”

  “No, there’s more to that,” said Sri’Lanca, speaking for the first time. “I saw many working on the foundations who had their arms in slings and bandages on their legs. The cages must be for the sick and dying.”

  Cold anger suffused Landon, remembering when he had been forced to travel to Tsuregi while deathly ill. And now, the Nircanians in the cages had to fetch their own water in the boiling heat. Often multiple times if a guard decided to spill the bucket.

  “So that’s what we’re facing,” said Myra, intruding on Landon’s thoughts. “But how do we get rid of thousands of guards and not draw attention from the armies?”

  “Let alone thirty dragons,” Landon muttered.

  “We cannot rely on stealth,” said Sri’Lanca. “Here, surprise is our ally. No one will expect two humans and a dragon to attack in broad daylight.”

  Broad daylight. “So, how do we attack?” asked Landon, his mouth suddenly dry.

  “It’s simple,” said Sri’Lanca. “We use the Wizard’s Seal.”

  Landon stopped in his tracks. “What?” Myra looked just as surprised.

  The ghost of a smile flickered around Sri’Lanca’s mouth. “I don’t know whether to be flabbergasted or humbled that you didn’t think of that, Landon. It’s the only way to free our people. The Wizard’s Seal can only destroy, therefore you use it to destroy the guards’ weapons, armor, and Ti’Luthin’s chains. That will give our people a fighting chance to take down the guards and get to safety. Come, let’s keep walking.”

  Landon and Myra jogged forward so they could walk abreast of the dragon’s head. “But Sri’Lanca . . .” said Landon. “The Seal . . . are you sure?”

  “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.” Sri’Lanca paused to gaze in the direction of the prison camp. “When Dagnor first invaded Nircana, we rounded up every person and put them in prison camps. We forced them to work for us, but not like this. Dre’Goran wasn’t sure if we would remain in Nircana forever, so he merely employed the Nircanians to make weapons, clothes, harvest food, and tend to his wounded soldiers. He never worked them to death, and a Dagnorian soldier would sooner freeze than rape a Western woman. This . . .” Sri’Lanca shook his head. “The other nations don’t care if the Nircanians live or not, so long as they can reap the benefits of their enslavement.”

  Landon’s heart and soul shuttered at those words. “All right, I’ll use the Seal, but I want you to tell me exactly what
to do. Even . . . even if it means I have to kill a . . . a guard.” He spoke slowly, unsure if he meant it or not. A large part of him wanted to destroy every foreigner he could see, but the part that adhered to his quailed at the thought.

  Sri’Lanca stopped. His yellow eyes gazed into Landon’s, and Landon felt like his dragon was reading his soul. “If you must, Landon. Destroy their weapons and armor first, but if they start slaughtering our people then don’t hold back. Kill them. But do not kill a dragon or tamer. No matter what,” said Sri’Lanca, enunciating every word. “You take even one life of a bonded dragon or human, and I will never forgive you.”

  Landon’s heart shook. He wanted Sri’Lanca to forbid him from taking any life with the Seal, yet he saw the reality of his dragon’s words. This was their only chance to save Nircana. If he wasn’t willing to kill, then they were better off leaving his people to die. He nodded. “Understood.”

  “That’s all well and great,” said Myra, “but what about those in the cages? They’re nowhere near the tools, and won’t be able to disarm the guards. They’re going to need help.”

  “We can organize those in the hell hole into groups,” Landon supplied. “Some can help me hold off the armies, and the others can get those in the cages out. The quarry is built around the tunnels, but so are the buildings. They can set up defenses there while I drive our enemies out of the hell hole.” Hope rose in Landon as those thoughts came together and he turned to Sri’Lanca. “What do you think?”

  Sri’Lanca was frowning. “Hell hole.”

  Landon stared at him. “Did you hear a word I said?”

  “I did, but . . . hell hole?”

  “It’s what I’m calling the quarry and building site,” Landon said firmly. “It’s hot as hell and ruled by devils.”

  Amusement flickered from Sri’Lanca, but the dragon didn’t chuckle. “I cannot argue with that. I think using the construction site and quarry is the best place to defend from, but I’m still worried about those in the cages. It will be hard to move that many sick and wounded quickly. And it will be a long way for those working in the graveyard.” He shook his head. “Flames, this is going to be harder than I thought.”